Orphans of the pen

Like many writers I have a store of part written works. Literary orphans, many of whom deserve better parenting than I have given.

Some are first drafts of short stories, ones which need attention before I could possibly allow others to set eyes upon them.

Some are beginnings of new books and novels. Many are several chapters – or more – in length. A few far longer, yet abandoned and gathering dust in the archives of ‘I’ll take another look at it, soon, one day, when I have time, sometime.’ 

Some are mere scribblings, outlines of thought, rough drafts of similar concept, or of unjointed notes, sort-of-bullet-points, fleeting notions.

Occasionally, I have pulled the odd page from the depths of neglect. In a few instances, I have reworked such a piece, even developed it into a viable story.

But those times are seldom.

Generally, when I unearth an old unfinished, partly written, abandoned tale, I quickly scan it, faintly recall its birth and return it, with a promise of coming back and spending some time with it ‘when I can give it the attention it deserves.’

Which is probably, almost certainly, a long way off from this current day, like… never.

We make the excuse of having more pressing and urgent tasks as current commitment. We enjoy the conception of creation, of having new babies in the making and we look forward to the birth of out next.

That is, if they reach as far as the publicatory birth. If our current focus is not waylaid or distracted by another fancy, another attractive proposition of literary lust which causes us to forsake the unborn penned pages, formed only weeks ago, during our crazed desire to conceive another narrative fable.

We, as writers, are not good rolemodels for caring and nurturing our creativities.

This is, as you can tell, one of the ‘things’ which I have been silently musing over during the past however-long it has been.

I wanted to understand why I could not simply open a file, drag out the unborn foetus of past indulgence and continue writing where I had left off. Even a re-read and re-write, rather like a genetic splicing of characteristics, to take each past abandoned child of mine from infantile scrawling to full blown beauty and let them loose.

So, I tasked myself to do precisely that. To wrench open the doorway of dusty archives and let the light flood in.

I was astounded by the mass of unloved writings huddled in the dank corners of my hard drive. However, I was determined to make amends for the neglect suffered by these poor word documents. After all, they never asked to be created.

One by one, I read the works.

By the time I reached mid-way point of the fifth part-work, I had my answer.

It is all to do with mood, muse and moment. At least it is for me.

Allow me to explain…

As I said earlier, literary lust and crazed desire set us on a special relationship in the attempt to conceive a beautiful outcome, a desired work of the bestselling nature.

While our mindset is concentrated, focused on a single relationship we flourish, some of us are capable of holding two, maybe three such affairs on a steady and productive track.

But each and all of these are balancing on a knife edge of frustration, distraction and boredom. Unable to help ourselves, our minds are constantly on the look-out for other attractive propositions and exciting ventures.

Therefore, once our muse is diverted the love for what is under our fingers wanes. Rarely is it lost, just lessened, it diminishes, at least for the present.

Then, one day we find these lost loves, or that which we once begat from such a relationship; they reach out, arms feebly grabbing for our attention.

But are we ready to take them to our bosom once more?

Most time, the shame is, we are not. We are not ready or willing. So, we slam the door in their faces, committing them to the darkness of closed files one again.

Why are we so cruel in our neglect?

The answer, I have found, is that mindset I mentioned earlier. To pick-up and move forward, we must rekindle the fondness we felt before, relight the old flame of particular creation.

Without us being ‘in the zone’ with regards to each individual story, we shall never see them grow into the works they surely deserve to be.

Maybe, to assuage your guilt of the shame and self-reproach I have now raised in your heart and mind, because of your wicked neglect over your part works, maybe you should unlock you archive doors and take some time with your unborn literary children.

Bring them out of the shadows, let them dance in the sunlight of new development and re-writing nirvana. You never know what wonderful orphans you may have forgotten.

Need more encouragement?

Then do this…

Dust off one of your lost children, re-write and re-work it into a Novelette or Novella, then publish it as an eBook or a Pocketbook or both, under the Electric Eclectic brand.

Share your creation with our Electric Eclectic authors, allow us to help you spread the word of your new-born, to introduce it to our loving readers.

Become an Electric Eclectic author today and start sharing your once orphaned works with the world.

Email Electric Eclectic, eebookbranding@mail.com

A short story for your enjoyment…

PEMBERTON

Sometimes, most times, life is a bitch.

The huge raindrops were constant, drumming a never-ending tattoo onto the roof of the car and crashing into the windscreen like a million kamikaze diamonds which splintered into slivers of distorted white light as they hit the glass.

The intensity of the rain limited my visibility, even with the wipers on full speed I found myself squinting into the darkness of the night trying to decipher what was road, what was verge, and what was simply reflection.

One hundred and ninety miles, black night, black rain, unlit country roads.

I must be insane.

As my eyes grew tired and my brain became weary, every shadow became menacing, each refraction of light an ominous threat. I drove with a sense of foreboding, a sense all would not end well.

That realisation was enough. I must to stop soon.

Besides, I needed fuel.

“Carl, Carl” she screamed down the phone. “You have to help me. You have to come now”.

So, I reacted.

I simply jumped into the car and started to drive. I never considered the weather, never checked the fuel gauge, I just drove.

Seven times so far I have called her back. No answer. Her phone just rings. I am concerned, worried.

I should not be.

I should not be going to her.

I should not be risking my life. Not for her. Not now. Not after what she has done.

Not after the way she treated me.

But here I am, in the centre of a storm, in the middle of nowhere.

The sign pointed left, ‘Pemberton – population 756’. Underneath a second sign ‘Fifteen miles’.

I headed left, following the sign, it was not much more then a dirt track but I was going to stop at Pemberton. I was going to get fuel and a big mugful of strong, black coffee.

I would need a boost of caffeine before I saw her, before I faced whatever crisis she was having.

I drove slowly along the track, trying to avoid the potholes which were brimming with rainwater. I was having to battling the rough uneven surface of the track.

I was also battling with myself.

The Devil in me said forget her, to go home. She was a liar. She was nothing but trouble.

I had to agree.

She was all of those things, yet I still thought of her more days than I did not.

One more chance, I told myself. I would give her one more chance.

Maybe I was doing this more for myself than for her?

Maybe this had nothing to do with her at all?

Maybe I must to prove her wrong… or right.

Maybe I needed to do this to give me closure, to finally draw a line under our relationship, to free myself, so I could move on.

The dirt track levelled out and changed to a paved surface. I relaxed slightly. The rain easing, leaving a misty haze hanging in the air which surrounded everything with a wispy, ghostly quality.

My phone rang. It was her.

At last.

I pulled the car over and answered. “I’m on my way, the weather is terrible. How are you doing?”

She giggled. I could hear voices in the background. “I’m fine, I just needed… you know… some stuff… I’m fine now. I’ve friends here. You don’t need to come now. I don’t want you to come anymore. I don’t want you here at all.”

The laughter from several voices echoed down the phone.

So that was it. She was talking shit again, pumping god-only-knows-what into her veins. I should have known.

But in that situation, when someone calls out, when someone you care for, cared for, sounds so desperate, you do not think.

You react.

She said she was clean, said she was not using anymore.

I believed her… until now.

“I’m halfway to you,” I said. I had no idea how far I had come, or how far away she was from here, from Pemberton, the facts were irrelevant just now.

“Then you are halfway home too,” she answered. I heard the other voices laughing at her remark.

“Yes, I am,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Bye then,” she said with a flippant snigger in her voice. The phone went dead.

She had gone.

I had my answer.

I had closure.

I now felt I was free to move on.

Sometimes, most times, life is a bitch.

But sometimes life gifts you in unexpected ways.

Today life gifted me a future.

You see, as I started to drive away, I saw a silhouette of a woman leaning against her car, which was stopped a little further along the road.

Not a place to be alone at this time of night, especially in such inclement weather.

I walked towards her, calling ahead as not to startle her. “Are you lost? Can I help?”

I have no idea why I said that because it was I who was lost… and in more ways than one. I also had no notion whatsoever of where I was, or in which direction I should go from here.

“No,” she answered, “I’m not lost, just out of fuel.”

I drove her into the town, explaining I too was looking for fuel and a strong cup of coffee. She found that amusing.

Pemberton, it seems, has only one garage, which also doubles up as the town’s only diner, neither of which would be open until Monday. So, I had the rest of tonight and all of tomorrow to wait for both coffee and fuel.

She was telling me I would be stuck right here, in Pemberton, for the rest of the weekend.

As it turned out, that was just fine because her home was comfortable, her coffee rich and strong, her bed soft and her body warm and tender.

Sometimes, most times, life is a bitch.

But sometimes life gifts us unexpectedly.

Sometimes.


I hope you enjoyed this small snippet of my work.

Although this story does not appear in my book, ‘Within the Invisible Pentacle’, it is representative, in style, of the twenty-nine short, and not so short, stories which do.

You can find ‘Within the Invisible Pentacle’ on this link, https://mybook.to/wtipentacle

Get ‘Chrome’ for FREE

This is the sixth chilling novel in the Pseudoverse

Detective Lori Lynn Gutierrez, and former journalist Amanda Sese, both poisoned in Onyx and “recruited” by the NIB, have their work cut out for them as they are pulled into the biggest gun battle the nation has ever witnessed.

An America divided is on the verge of a New Civil War over weapons that never need reloading while pushing the 2nd Amendment to its limit.

Filled with brand new characters, a “Shadow Government” attempting to take control of your life, and a hypersexual ex-military Major turned mercenary at the helm, Chrome is a non-stop action-packed conspiracy you will never forget.

This novel is rated ‘MA.’ It contains sex, drugs, mind-control, Taco Bell, crooked politicians, a Charger that can climb walls, a Viper with its own arsenal, great music, and a proud police detective whose partner who went from reporter to super sniper.

This novel also contains words you never want to hear come out of your mother’s mouth and images your brain will never forget.

“All characters are real people. Just like the music is real, so is every person who is a main or secondary character (antagonist or protagonist).

Read the thank you at the end to find out who everyone might be.

I find this unique quality to be the biggest winner of the novels. Blade also has the real people, or someone close to them should they already be resting in peace, write the foreword.


I am one to read forewords, but being a teacher for 20 years, I know what a drag they can be for the non-reader or the Escapist reader: Let me get to the good stuff… Well, these forewords are not to be skipped. Chrome and Onyx will tear your heart out, flip it around, and shove it back in upside-down. They are a must read from a character in the novel. Blade works hard (pesters…) to know his characters to portray them as accurately as possible. He does a bang-up job.

The classy touch of the Chrome Foreword just says it all for CG Blade.”

Kate D. Amazon Review



Chrome is homage to Law Enforcement across the nation, our brave and wonderful men, and women that put their life on the line for us every day.

Viewer’reader discretion advised. Check out the sneak peek of our next novel “Indigo,” at the end of this mind ripper.

“We are with you everywhere.”

“The Pseudoverse Series has everything you love reading in one gorgeous set of fantastic novels.

These stories are the most gripping, twisting, turning, and well-written series of futuristic historical fiction novels you will ever lay your hands on.

You will be asking yourself, “why didn’t I come across these sooner?”

The cliffhangers, from novel to novel, suck you in like no other series you have read.

Kudos to CG and his extensive research into all things scary including “politics by mind-control.””

Karen S. – Amazon Review

Chrome, Amazon UK https://amzn.to/32AsV4a

Chrome, Amazon USA https://www.amazon.com/Chrome-Sixth-Novel-Pseudoverse-Book-ebook/dp/B07D9KMGSL

Chrome, Australia https://www.amazon.com.au/Chrome-Sixth-Novel-Pseudoverse-Book-ebook/dp/B07D9KMGSL

Pseudosynthpress Website, https://www.pseudosynthpress.com/


Stories From the Past by Karen Mossman

In November 2019, writer Audrina Lane, and I were at her home in Ross-on -Wye, having attended a book and craft fair that she had organised. As we drank wine and chatted she mentioned that the 8th May 2020 was 75 years since VE day. I hadn’t known, and an idea formed. Why don’t we put together an Electric Eclectic Books anthology? We could ask some of our brand friends if they would be interested. We could theme all our stories to VE Day. It was something we hadn’t done before and none of our Electric Eclectic books are set in the war.

It was an interesting concept and having brought it up, I needed to go away and think about what I could write. What did I know about the war? It was mostly stories from my dad about his father’s days in Europe. He had a lot of interesting tales to tell. So I had a vague idea of weaving them into a story.

It wasn’t until I saw the cover made by Paul White, Electric Eclectic’s founder, that a title came to me. It seemed fitting that my story, The Dome of St Paul’s should be the first one in the book. It brought together the front cover and the stories inside.

My dad had long since passed away but luckily I had written down what he told me. I chose to tell a tale of a boy listening to the stories of his grandfather, which went on to influence his life. Those stories were the ones my own grandfather experienced, and with the help of Wikipedia, I was able to confirm these long ago tales really happened. It was at that point I realised I wanted to dedicate my piece to him, too. To have his name in a book for prosperity, would be a wonderful thing to do. I passed this idea onto the other writers and some were able to dedicate theirs. Audrina Lane’s story is so poignant as it tells of her grandfather’s 99th Squadron, and how she held his hand as he passed away.

The other stories are equally as compelling. Paul White told of Patricia, Annie and Jean. Three girls living through the war and the celebrations when Victory was announced. There is a secret unmentioned, that gives food for thought when days were not so liberal. Paul dedicated his to the white butterflies saying it was remarkable how thousands fluttered around. It was as if the souls of the dead soldiers had come to haunt the spot where so many fell.

Purely by co-incidence, Claire Plaisted story was entitled Butterflies of Dunkirk. It talked about the battle of Dunkirk and the souls of the men and the amazing sight of butterflies rising from the ground.

Rosemary for Remembrance by Julia Blake is a haunting story of two people caught up in the celebrations and falling in love. If you have ever read any of Julia’s novels you’ll know this was always going to be something special.

We were also honoured to have another amazing author, Jane Risdon to contribute We’ll Meet Again. Jane, who wrote Only One Woman about a rock band in the sixties, brought us this thrilling crime story set during the war. It will keep you gripped right until the end!

Finally, Audrina Lane’s 99th Squadron rounds off the book in the most perfect way.

I was thrilled to see my grandfather’s name there in black and white when I held the book in my hand. Cyril Parry of Chester was just one of the thousands who played their part, and lucky enough to come home. It occurred to me that my Uncle Derek, Dad’s brother, would love to see his Dad’s name, too. So I sent him a copy. We ended up having a long conversation about Grandpa and this is one of the most interesting things to come out of it, and I wished I’d have known, as it would have written it into the story.

When Cyril’s regiment, the 8th Army, were dropped off in the water at Saleno beach, in Italy, the American’s dragged him out. He had been in the water for so long he almost died. The first thing they did was to stick a cigarette in mouth and from that day onwards, he was a heavy smoker.

We received this wonderful review on Amazon recently. It’s so nice, I wanted to share it.

Victory75 is available on Amazon as an ebook and a paperback. Please leave us a review as it means so much to the authors to hear what their readers think.

Author Assist by Karen J Mossman

Author Assist is run by Karina Kantas, author of Electric Eclectic Books, Flash of Horror and Toxic, and has been in business since 2015 . She has single -handily helped and trained 100s of authors on how to market and promote themselves and their books.

I’ve been using Karina for many years now and she has literally taught me everything I know. She is wonderfully helpful and deserves to go through to the next round.

This second round of this contest would mean so much especially as she is head to head with the ‘big boys’ . The only way to compete again them is for people like you to vote.

So, please, if you can, take minute, to vote, it would really help and be gratefully appreciated. You may need to register first, but that’s just so they know who is voting and enable you to go back and vote again.

Win a Paperback!

by Audrina Lane

To commemorate the 75th Anniversary of VJ Day on 15th August , I am giving away a copy of the book ‘Victory 75’ for the cost of a £1 raffle ticket.

I decided it would be great to be able to contribute another £75 to the Veterans Fund on this momentous occasion.

To enter click on this link to Facebook and comment the number you’d like. Then just send £1 to my Paypal account.

I’m hoping to do the draw on Monday 17th August in the evening.

VJ Day/Singapore surrender. A family witness.

“Lord Louis Mountbatten delivering a speech from steps of Municipal Building at the conclusion of Japanese surrender ceremonies. L to R, front row: Admiral Sir Arthur J. Power, General Sir William Slim, Mountbatten, Lt. General Raymond A.Wheeler, and Air Chief Marshal Sir Keith Park. Singapore.” Sep. 12, 1945

This year, 2020, marked the 75th anniversary of the end of World War 2. Probably the most momentous historical occasion in living memory.

Many military and veterans’ associations and charities planned special events, shows, exhibitions and displays in remembrance of VE-day, D-Day and VJ-Day, which, due to the Coronavirus pandemic necessitated cancellation.

Every day, memories of World War 2, its sights and sounds, its terrors and triumphs, disappear. Yielding to the inalterable process of ageing, the men and women who fought and won the great conflict are now in their late 80s and 90s. The oldest reported, 110 and 105 respectively.

It is doubtful how many may still be with us to observe future milestone in our history of remembrance. One of the main reasons 2020 was to be a major worldwide commemorative event.

At the time I write this post, both the VE-Day and D-Day dates have passed which is one reason I write of VJ-Day.

Another reason is, my grandfather, Percy Doswell, a Royal Airforce doctor, witnessed the surrender ceremony at the Municipal Building of Singapore, headed by Lord Louis Mountbatten, Supreme Allied Commander of South East Asia Command, who came to Singapore to receive the formal surrender of the Japanese forces in the region from General Seishirō Itagaki on behalf of General Hisaichi Terauchi.

A photograph montage, near the end of this blog post were taken by my grandfather and have never been published or publicly displayed before.

However, let me start with a simple historical explanation for those who may not know too much regarding the ending of World War 2.

D-Day; the popular name given to the Normandy Landings, on 6 June 1944. (D-Day and H-Hour being common military terms of the period.)

This event marked the allied fightback against the Axis Powers, notably Adolph Hitler and the Nazis. It was the beginning of the end.

VE Day marks the end of World War II in Europe, (Victory in Europe, hence ‘VE’.) May 8th, 1945 the date the Allies celebrated the defeat of Nazi Germany and the end of Adolf Hitler’s Reich, formally recognising the end of the Second World War in Europe.

VJ Day signals the end of World War II in its entirety. It is when Japan finally surrendered. (Victory over Japan Day, VJ-Day, also known as Victory in the Pacific Day, or VP-Day.)

In Japan, August 15th is known as the ‘Memorial Day for the end of the war‘. 終戦記念日, Shūsen-kinenbi); the official name for the day, however, is ‘the day for mourning of war dead and praying for peace.’ (戦没者を追悼し平和を祈念する日, Senbotsusha o tsuitōshi heiwa o kinensuru hi. (This official name was adopted in 1982 by an ordinance issued by the Japanese government.)

In the UK and the US, VJ Day is celebrated on different dates.

The initial announcement of Japan’s surrender was made on 15 August 1945, the date the UK marks as VJ-Day each year.

However, the surrender documents were officially signed on the USS Missouri battleship on 2 September 1945, which is why America celebrates on 2 September.

Foreign minister Shigemitsu, signing Japanese surrender instrument on the battleship USS Missouri

This blog, however, concentrates on the 12 September 1945, the date the surrender instrument was signed at the Singapore Municipal Building, (now known as City Hall), simply because, (as stated above), this was the part of the war’s official ending my grandfather witnessed and of which my family have personal records.

On 12 September 1945, Supreme Allied Commander (Southeast Asia), Lord Louis Mountbatten, accompanied by the Deputy Supreme Commander Raymond Wheeler, was driven to the ceremony by a released prisoner-of-war. As the car drove by the streets, sailors and marines from the East Indies Fleet who lined the streets greeted them.

At the Municipal Building, Mountbatten was received by his Commanders-in-Chief and high-ranking Allied Officers based in Singapore. Also gathered in front of the Municipal Building were four Guards-of-Honour, from the Royal Navy, the Royal Air Force, the Indian army, and Australian paratroopers. Mountbatten led an inspection of the officers before proceeding to the chamber where the ceremony was to be held. During the inspection, a fleet band played “Rule Britannia” accompanied by the firing of a seventeen-gun salute by the Royal Artillery.

The Instrument of Surrender was signed by General Itagaki, who signed on behalf of Hisaichi Terauchi, Field Marshall Count, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Japanese Forces, Southern Region.

Terauchi was not able to attend the surrender ceremony as he fell ill due to a stroke. However, he personally surrendered to Mountbatten on 30 November 1945 in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh city).

He also surrendered his two swords: a short sword forged in the 16th century and a long sword forged in the 13th century. Mountbatten later presented the short sword to King George VI.

The Japanese signed a total of 11 copies of the Instrument of Surrender; one each for the British, American, Chinese, French, Dutch, Australian, Indian and the Japanese governments; and one each for King George VI, the Supreme Commander, Mountbatten and the South East Asia Command’ records.

The ceremony was also witnessed by 400 spectators (one being my grandfather, Percy Doswell), made up of commanders and officers from the navy, army and air force, as well as senior officers from the Supreme Headquarters of the South East Asia Command, 14 leaders of the Malayan communities, the Sultan of Johore, Sir Ibrahim, and released prisoners-of-war, who were all seated behind the Allied representatives.

In the chamber, flags of Allied forces were hung and at the bases of its pillars as were one officer representing the different fighting forces; the Gurkhas, Sikhs, Australians, British airmen, Dutch, Americans, French (from the battleship Richelieu) and the 5th Indian Division.

The surrender ceremony ended with the hoisting of the Union Jack and the playing of the national anthems of all the Allied nations. The Union Jack used was the same flag which flew over the Government House before the war and which was hidden by a Malayan civil servant, Mervyn Cecil Frank Sheppard in his pillow during his captivity in the Changi Prison during the Japanese Occupation.

The official ceremony was followed by a celebration at the Padang, which included a victory parade.

A British military administration, using surrendered Japanese troops as security forces, was formed to govern the island until March 1946.

At home, in England, Prime Minister Clement Atlee‘s announcement: “The last of our enemies is laid low”.

King George VI addressed the nation from a balcony at Buckingham Palace and streets across the nation were filled with people singing, cheering, dancing in scenes which echoed the declaration of peace in Europe three months earlier.

Bonfires were lit, fireworks sent soaring into the sky and historic buildings floodlit as the whole country celebrated the news that their remaining troops would soon be returning home.

Immediately operations began to repatriate some of the 130,000 Allied prisoners held by Japanese troops in POW camps across the region. The RAF parachuted in 136 teams to negotiate the release of prisoners in Operation Mastiff.

My Grandfather, Percy Doswell. (While stationed in India.)

Sadly, the end of World War 2 did not bring the everlasting peace so many wished for, war and conflict still rage around the world to this day.

I note two books you may wish to read, the first, an anthology from the authors of Electric Eclectic, written to celebrate the 75th VE-Day anniversary, is simply called ‘Victory 75. This can be obtained in Paperback from Amazon, here, or as an eBook/Kindle, here

The second is ‘Life in the War Zone, n award winning collection of short stories classed as fiction, yet are based on true accounts given by those living in areas of conflict around the world. Paperback only. Here.

A Tip for Authors

Today we have a guest blog from Karina Kantas of Author Assist.

Karina is an indie author, and an Electric Eclectic author. As the principle of Author Assist, Karina has been helping indie authors and writers improve there working methods and successfully promote their books since 2015.

Here, Karina gives us a quick but extremely useful method for organising our often confused and untidy working methods.

This was first posted on Karina's own blog, Karina's Korner

As author’s we have links coming out of our ears.

Links to books, SMP (social media platforms) mailing list sign up, all the FaceBook groups etc.  So, how do you remember them all?

Do you have a book with them all in, then go hunting every time you need to find a book link?

No, you keep them all in one place, where you and the public can find them.

You need to utilize every part of your FaceBook page, so let’s start with the banner on your private FaceBook page.

Click on your banner and you have a single place where you can add all your links and can add and add and edit anytime.

NOTE TO REMEMBER: Ensure you copy and paste all of your links into a post on your page a change the setting from ‘public’ to ‘only me’. See below. Then save the post BEFORE you change your banner.

Karina Kantas has been assisting authors and writers through Author Assist since 2015, from where she offers affordable assist services

Contact her at, kkantasauthorassist@gmail.com for a service and price list.

View the menu of services, see samples of Karina’s work and read testimonials at, https://kkauthorassist.wordpress.com/


How would you like to become an Electric Eclectic author?

Electric Eclectic is a book marketing brand, we are NOT publishers, we do take authors royalties. Electric Eclectic authors retain full rights to their works.

Electric Eclectic authors chose which of their books they wish to promote under the Electric Eclectic brand.

Each year Electric Eclectic welcome a small number of authors into the fold. This year, 2020, we have space to welcome six lucky people, are you one of those?

Want to find out more? email us, EEbookbranding@mail.com

August edition of the Electric Press magazine is now live online…

The August 2020 edition of Electric Press – Literary Insights magazine is now online. Read for FREE below

We welcome contributions and submissions for the next edition of Electric Press magazine, the November 2020 edition. Click HERE for details


Don’t Tell a Writer Your Secrets!

by Karen J Mossman

Sometimes the most embarrassing things can be humorous and I wrote something a little risqué by my standards. I also wanted it to be a little cringe worthy because we’ve all been in situations that have made our toes curl.

You know that saying, never tell a writer your deepest secrets? No? Well, perhaps I made that up but it’s true. They may write it in their book!

I’m guilty of that. Someone, who will remain nameless, once told me how she lost her virginity, and many wonderful things are written in books about ‘the first time,’ the reality is it is often embarrassing and messy. You always hope you’ll never see that person again, right?

If we collected stories of first times, it would end up being really funny simply because people keep that to themselves. They don’t want to share their inexperience or be made to feel foolish. I know I wouldn’t. The truth is we have all been there and hearing someone else’s stories makes ours less shocking. The more we hear, the more amused we get, do you follow?

I wouldn’t dare ask you about your first time and neither would I tell you mine, so instead I put a tale in The Magic of Stories, one I made up, with a little bit of truth in it!

Meanwhile, I will leave you to read this amusing post entitled:

41 Things I Wish I Could Say To The Guy Who Took My Virginity

Screen Shot 2020-07-29 at 19.41.48